


What's Left?

by SLSmith22



Category: None - Fandom
Genre: Grief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 11:05:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8100073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SLSmith22/pseuds/SLSmith22
Summary: Nothing fandom related, but something I needed to get off of my chest. A close friend of mine died recently, and I'm still processing the grief. 
If anyone who reads this is in a similar position, I'm here to listen if you need it.





	

I don't drink alone because then I think about him. I think about how he said I wasn't a freak, how he was the first to accept, and how the carpet felt under my knees when I knelt for him. 

I don't drink whiskey. I tell people it's because of the taste, and that's true. But not because I don't like it....because every time I tasted, it was to lick it off his lips, and fuck, I don't need to break down around the bonfire, okay? 

Whiskey belongs to him.  
That burning, wincing, taste belongs to those nightmare eyes.   
Just like the tears I can't let go of.  
Just like the gaping wound in my chest.  
Just like the grief that chokes me.

So I drink vodka. Cheap and painful and slutty....and I drink the kind that leaves my throat raw and I revel in the pain because it's all I have left. 

I smoke little black cigars that remind me of jazz and his guitar. I smoke and fill my lungs to bursting and smile and pretend it's the nicotine that's got me light-headed, and not the constant presence of his absence. 

I kneel in the shower and watch my skin boil red in the heat and I'm barely held together by good intentions, and others who need me, and the soap suds on my thighs.

Because goddamn when I drink alone I can't breathe.

I can't breathe  
I can't sleep  
I can't fucking BLINK because he once commented on my eyelashes   
And I'm looking for him everywhere   
I'm looking for him at the coffee shop  
And the bookstore and the church and the car show and the break room and there's nothing there but goddamnifillgiveupbecause

My pain belongs to him.  
And without him to take it...


End file.
